High Standards: A Hetalicized Cinderella Story
by lillithrising
Summary: Where the heroine is a slightly homicidal aristocrat, the stepsisters are German/Prussian!\, the king is insane, and the prince has a gun obsession.
1. Chapter 1

High Standards: A Hetalicized Cinderella Story

Where the heroine is a slightly homicidal aristocrat, the stepsisters are German (Prussian!), the king is insane, and the prince has a gun obsession.

Chapter One: Undignified Beginnings

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><p>In a Faraway Land, Possibly in the 17th Century?<p>

Sunlight streamed in through a tiny square window into a wood, attic-like storage space turned into a pathetic excuse of a makeshift bedroom. There were so many boxes and pieces of old furniture collecting dust that there was barely room to walk, let alone sleep here. And yet, curled up on a heap of straw with an aged quilt slept our raven-haired Cinderella. She also went by the name Renate, but that's beside the point.

While she is the Cinderella of our story, Renate was far from your stereotypical victim of neglect and child abuse. Yes, she slept in far from comfortable conditions, but Renate chose to do so of her own free will. Her stepmother gave her the choice to either spend a heap of money on renovations, or move to the attic. While being a very selfish girl, Renate understood the value of money from an early age. The money that could go to renovations could instead go to something better, like piano music or good food.

Although she is forced to do the chores, Renate was an opportunist, and when she could, she'd enlist the aid of her stepsister Louise, who would be cleaning up after Renate anyway since she "wasn't thorough enough." Who was she to deny Louise something she so obviously enjoyed?

The birds outside sing their morning songs, saying "Good morning! Good morning!" In response, an angry stomach growled.

Renate is awake. Maybe. It's been one of those nights spent on-and-off sleeping, so it's hard to tell just yet. You see, she keeps having this odd, reoccurring dream involving the orange and white cat that lives downstairs.

In this dream, Itabby the cat would play innocently on the floor in the kitchen while she cooked. Occasionally, he would meow to get her attention, but Renate would ignore it. Continuing with whatever she was cooking on the stovetop, she looked down when the cat started pawing at her skirt. It meowed again, urgently.

Again, Renate ignored it, stirring the pot on the stove in a slightly irritated manner. Finally, the cat jumped on the counter top, placing a paw on her hand.

"Ve… are you making pasta?" The cat asked, sniffing the contents of the pot.

And then she would wake up, screaming. Darn that gluttonous cat. It was weird enough how it was captivated by dust particles swirling in the air, but to be able to talk, too? Ugh.

Maybe today, if she's lucky, she'll get the chance to strangle that cat without getting caught.

Stepmother originally had bought the sack of fluff to catch mice. While the effort was commendable, the stupid animal spends majority of its time running _away_ from the mice. The rest of the day it mainly sits around eating gourmet cat food, sleeping, and getting pampered by Louise. For a girl who was more of a dog person, the younger stepsister sure let that cat walk all over her (literally – it was probably sleeping on Louise at his very moment).

Renate finally gathers the motivation to get up, tossing the quilt aside. Why bother make the bed when she's the only one up here? It's not like she needs to impress the mice.

Speaking of which, the mice that live in the woodwork were currently scurrying and chattering away at her feet excitedly. Renate neither understands them nor cares. She had grown up on stories about mice and birds that talked and did the housework in harmony, but the thought only left her with indigestion. For one, it was unsanitary, and two, it was just plain weird. Animals were animals, and people were people, no matter what the science textbooks said. The birds that swoop in from the small window above to eat the mice don't seem to care, either. Somewhere in her mind she finds logic in this.

She throws on her ratty, patched up dress and apron. The dress was still good even after all these years of wash and wear. It would be wasteful to trash it for a new one. Albeit, she would need to re-stitch some of the seams soon, it was nothing Renate couldn't handle.

Using a broken hand mirror that used to belong to Maria, the eldest stepsister, she was able to arrange her hair, tying half of it back with an old navy blue ribbon. _There, perfect_. Renate decided, taking one last look in the mirror before heading downstairs.

She enters the cold dark stairwell, treading on each wooden step carefully since she no longer had her wooden shoes. They were hideous, hard to walk in, and the attic space was very cold last winter. She had opted for warmth, and burned them.

While she did not like cute things or animals, believe in magic or fairytale endings, Renate did have one wish. Or rather, an inner knowing that one day, she would be an aristocrat, privy to everything prim, proper, and regal (or really, she believed she was an aristocrat born into a lower class. As to why she was stuck in this… predicament, well, she liked to believe that God was testing her worthiness).

You see, while she respected her stepmother for her frugality and resourcefulness (although nothing could compare to Renate's actual birth mother, who died of pneumonia several years ago. She was like the poster child of miserly behavior), she resented the blatant favoritism given to her stepsiblings. Even Maria, with her loud cackling, lack of basic manners, and pranks that typically ended with the albino getting grounded, was allowed far more privileges than she could ever earn.

For example, the albino girl could choose any hobby and be fully funded to pursue that hobby, such as learning to play the flute or lead guitar. However, Maria tended to get bored with her hobbies early. And she hated practice, feeling more content with making random shrill noises to annoy everyone.

Renate was lucky that stepmother like the piano, otherwise she would never have found her greatest joy in life. If anything, it made her proud of what she could accomplish on her own. After all, it's rare to find someone so young with the dedication to teach themselves how to read music and play the piano. While her stepmother wouldn't pay for lessons, Renate was pleased that she was allowed to use the instrument after all the chores had been completed.

The bitterness still ran deep, however. While making oatmeal, she grew tempted to toss in some diced mushrooms (the poisonous kind that grew in the woods back behind the house), but when she thought about how much work it would involve, she decided against it.

"Hey, Cinderella! Awesome is hungry!" Said a loud voice from upstairs.

She sighed. The noisy bird was awake, but there were no worms at hand. At least the others were patient enough to wait for their breakfast. And then something dangerous happened – she got an idea.

"I'll teach her manners yet," she muttered darkly, scanning the room for something suitable.

There were no worms, but certainly a mouse would do. Finding the fattest, hairiest, ugliest mouse under the kitchen table, Renate placed it under an empty teacup. Satisfied, she carried the three trays up the other flight of stairs (the fancy stone ones with maroon carpeting leading to the main floor).

Renate had many pet peeves. One of them was not using manners when you really should, which to her is all the time 24/7.

_Those rude, ungrateful roaches._ She fumed. Instead of a thank you, each gave her a large bag of dirty laundry. _The nerve! _Cinderella made a mental note (C sharp) to accidentally add bleach while washing them.

Her plotting was soon to be interrupted. As usual, Maria was the culprit.

"Ahh! My face!"

"Kesesesese!"

Let's rewind to see what happened.

~.D.N.I.W.E.R~

As you may remember, Renate had left a mouse in Maria's teacup. This was a big mistake on her part, seeing as Maria was virtually afraid of nothing (meaning that even if she was afraid, she'd suck it up and not admit it to your face). On top of that, she was a constant schemer.

"_Kesesese,_ I never knew you had it in you, aristo-bitch." She grinned at the freshly coined nickname, holding the mouse by the tail. "I'm too awesome to be scared of mice. But I know someone who is…."

After Maria was sure Renate had gone to the music room to practice on the piano, the albino snuck down the hall and slipped into her sister's bedroom.

"Hey there, sister of lesser awesomeness!"

Louise, who was reclining on her bed situated against the far wall, simply rolled her eyes and continued reading her book on I don't know, car parts or something, and petting Itabby, who slept peacefully in her lap, purring contentedly.

The cuteness of the scene almost distracted he from her mission, but Maria would persevere! Scanning her sibling's over-organized sky blue bedroom, she spotted the food tray on the bedside table. How on earth could Louise find stuff in a room so… clean?

"So what do you want? You normally don't bother me in my room unless you want something."

"Pffft, as if. I don't want any – no, actually, $20 would be nice."

Louise sighed, moving Itabby over to retrieve her money box from under the bed. While the cat yawned, Maria slipped the mouse into the teacup.

"Here," she said, begrudgingly handing over the twenty, "now you currently owe me $2,750."

"Nu-uh! I gave you $75 last week!"

Itabby sniffed the air. Mmm, that oatmeal smelled really good!

"That $75 was mine. I mark all my money so idiots like you don't cheat me."

"Hey, I don't cheat!"

"I beg to differ,"

"Beg being the key word."

"…Shut up. That's not what I meant, and you know it!"

"Keep telling yourself that, oh sister of mine."

With his eyes closed, Itabby's perception of distance was off. So instead of finding oatmeal, the cat found a face full of mouse.

"Ve-meow!" He shrieked, knocking the tray onto the floor. The cat and mouse went in two different directions – one out the door, and the other, well….

"Ahh! My face!"

"Kesesesese!"

~F.A.S.T.F.O.R.W.A.R.D.~

As a result of the mouse incident, both Maria and Renate were called into stepmother's room (because Maria snitched out Renate as the supplier of the mouse). The looming black four poster bed in the middle of the room cast eerie shadows across the cold stone tile floor. They both gulped, not because of the creepiness, but because of the imminent long, boring lecture they were about to receive. The curtains pulled back, the stepmother's eyes shining from the darkness that surrounded her like a cocoon, her hands beckoning like a spider to the fly.

And like two incredibly stupid flies, they inched closer.

"Maria, what have I told you about pestering your sister?" She drawled in monotone. Maria grinned, hands on her hips defiantly.

"It helps her relax and not be an unawesome stick in the mud?"

"Guess again."

She took her daughter's hand and slapped the back side of her palm. Maria winced.

"Now, what shall you be doing to correct this behavior?"

"Nothing." A sharp slap joined the first.

"Ow! Fine. I promise to try to behave myself from now on."

Stepmother studied her daughter for a couple of seconds.

"…See that you do."

"Awesome!" Maria skipped toward the door, thinking she got off easy.

"But," she froze mid-skip, "you'll have an extra music practice."

Both Maria and Renate gawked. An extra music practice? How was that fair? Maria grumbled, storming out the door. Renate fumed, waiting until the loud foot falls could no longer be heard.

"Why-?"

"Would I use music as punishment?"

Renate closed her mouth, turning away.

"It's simple. You've both disappointed me. It's far easier to use a punishment that would affect both of you." She sighed, lifting the bowl of oatmeal from her tray. "And here I thought you had some potential. Clearly I was wrong."

"I didn't think-"

"No, you didn't."

Renate clenched her teeth, her hands shaking with rage at her sides. She balled them into fists.

"I don't expect promises of future good behavior from you. We both know you're beyond such childish things."

She paused to take a bite of oatmeal, and froze, the spoon still in her mouth.

"This is sweet. Sugar is expensive…."

"It's honey. Our neighbor's tool shed was taken over by honey bees." Renate tried not to crinkle her nose in disgust as her stepmother talked with the spoon still in her mouth.

"You don't say…"

Yes, she did say. She had asked the pest control people to let her scrape out the honey combs when they were done removing the bees. Since it would mean less work for them, they accepted her request.

Stepmother placed the empty bowl on the tray with a loud clink. Renate waited patiently as she drank her tea.

"You will have twice the normal amount of chores. Clean out all the bedrooms, except for Louise's, of course. Her room is always spotless. And also, the bathrooms. Especially Maria's."

Renate grimaced. That could take weeks.

"The windows could use washing, and the floors always need sweeping, with all the dirt Maria tracks in. And… if I think of anything else, I'll let you know."

She motioned for Renate to take the tray and leave her presence. As she closed the door behind her, she was glomped by Maria. Somehow, she managed not to drop anything. Maybe Renate was getting used to Maria's presence? She shivered. What a truly disturbing thought….

"I never thought I'd see the day!" she slung an arm around the girl's shoulder like they were best friends.

"What are you babbling on about?"

"My awesomeness must be catching. Finally. Nothing else could explain how miss prim and proper would do something fun* for once."

"Your sense of fun is highly skewed." She shrugged off Maria, picking up the tray neatly stacked at the base of Louise's door. She continued down the hall. Maria watched, stunned by the sudden cold shoulder.

"Pffffft, fine. I don't need an awesome side kick. I work better alone, anyway."

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><p>*Actually, Austrians really aren't all that straight-laced. They just pretend they are. Seriously, there was this show on Travel Channel with this resort in Austria where you could bathe in beer. No wonder Prussia's always bothering him. I totally would, too.<p>

Prussia: Let's take a bath together!

Austria: No.

Prussia: Even if it's in bier?

Austria: … I guess, but you'd better stay on the other side of the tub.

Prussia: Kesesesese, no promises!

No animals or honey bees were harmed in the writing of this chapter.

Disclaimer: I do not own the awesomeness that is Hetalia, or the Disney animation of Cinderella from which this is based.

So, how was it? Other than the homicidal tendencies aren't all that apparent. Don't worry, more shall come. I hope no one minds that I didn't start with a list of characters. I just didn't think it would be fair to use up a whole chapter like that. Plus, it leaves a surprise for when you find out who is who (bwahaha). Stay tuned, folks. Please review, and thanks for stopping by!


	2. Chapter 2

Hey guys! Thanks for the reviews. Here ya go, a chapter with Alfred just in time for July 4! Enjoy.

Recap: Cinderella (Austria) attempts to get even with the annoying older stepsister Maria (Prussia), who instead flips the tables and awesomely bothers her sister Louise (Germany) instead. Stepmother (Germania) punishes them with her naturally boring self. Itabby falls asleep on Louise's book, much to her owner's chagrin/slight amusement. End of recap.

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><p>High Standards: A Hetalicized Cinderella Story<p>

Chapter Two: I Want Grandbabies!

In a Royal Palace Somewhere

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><p>Being a palace guard was freaking epic, Alfred decided. You got to wear a kickass red military uniform, an awesome shiny black hat, hold a rifle, and get the chance to be an awesome hero if any baddies tried to take over the castle.<p>

"Palace," someone nearby whispered, correcting him.

Alfred freaked out, swinging his rifle around, blue eyes wide with fear.

"Who said that? How did you know I was thinking about castles? Damn mind-reading zombie ghost things!"

"Alfred, it's me, your brother. As always. And technically, it's not thinking when you say it aloud. Now put your gun down."

Matthew, his twin brother, rolled his eyes from his position a few feet away to Alfred's right. Seriously, how did Alfred forget someone with the same job, standing less than five feet away, who looked nearly identical in appearance?

"Oops. Sorry about that, Mattie."

He leaned his gun against the wall, which was covered in bright yellow wallpaper. Nearly every wall in the palace was some variation of yellow, to honor the king's fondness for sunflowers. The flower was a part of the royal coat of arms, as well as the wax seal on all official palace documents.

With his hands now free, Alfred Jones sat down on the beige tile floor and began to stretch.

"Al!"

"God, that feels good." He loudly popped his back. Several guards down the line, all but one wearing glasses, winced.

"Al, we're not supposed to move from our positions!"

"I know. Crazy, right? It's like they _want_ us to fall asleep or something."

He started doing snow angels on the floor, sans the snow.

"Al, that's not what I meant, and you know it!"

"S'm'n's c'm'ng," (Someone's coming.) The guard on Alfred's left muttered.

"What was that, big guy?"

"S'm'n's c'm'ng, 'nd 'm n't b'g g'y. 'm B'rw'ld." (Someone's coming, and I'm not "big guy." I'm Berwald.)

The tall blonde with the glasses nodded his head to the right, where the approaching footsteps were barely audible but getting louder.

"Oh, shit!"

Alfred sprang up, grabbing his rifle and returning to his post just as King Ivan rounded the corner. He wore a cream colored suit, a purple cape, golden crown, an ever-present scarf and a creepy smile. The guard closest to the king instantly started shaking, a boy of no more than fifteen with curly sand-colored hair and pale violet eyes (the only one in the guard without glasses, strangely enough).

The king turned to scrutinize the boy.

"What is your name?" He asked, the smile growing wider. It only made the boy fidget more.

"R-r-raivis G-galante, Your Majesty."

"Are you cold, Raivis?"

The boy bit his lip, unsure of how exactly he was supposed to answer that. So instead, his knees gave out, and Raivis collapsed at the older gentleman's feet. King Ivan chuckled lightly.

"Silly boy, that's no place to sleep!"

Much to everyone's amazement (and fear), the king cradled the youth in his arms, and proceeded to carry him down the hallway bridal style.

When the king was far enough away, Alfred took off his shiny black guard hat in remembrance.

"We knew him well."

The row of spectacled guards nodded in agreement.

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><p>When the King entered the office of the Grand Duke, painted a calm blue with scattered houseplants in vases with painted sunflowers around the rim (to keep the king from getting angry over the lack of yellow), Toris did a double take from his seat behind the desk by the far wall.<p>

"I-is that-?"

King Ivan grinned, sitting down on the forest green couch in front of the desk, the boy still out cold in his arms.

"He's so cute like this. Don't you agree, Toris?"

"O-oh, yes." He hastily changed the subject, "Prince Vash sent word of his graduation from the military academy. Since the ceremony is over, he will be returning to the palace tonight. Arrangements have been made for a celebratory feast – um, Your Majesty, could you please refrain from doing that?"

King Ivan, who had been poking Raivis' cheek, paused mid-poke to look over at the Grand Duke with narrowed eyes.

"And why should I?"

Toris shrank back into his seat to escape the creepy purple aura emanating from the monarch.

"U-um, it's just that the boy might wake up."

King Ivan continued to poke him.

"But it's _fuuuuuuuuuuuuuun!_ I haven't had the chance to do this since my little Vashy and Lilli were little. I miss the adorable little glare he would give me when I poked him, and the threats he would give me if I even thought about approaching his little sister." He smiled fondly at the memory.

"Ah, yes. That was back when he played with that toy wooden gun with the cork and string, right?"

King Ivan closed his eyes, stroking Raivis' hair as the boy relaxed and curled up like a cat.

"Da. I still remember how he cut the string so he could actually shoot people who approached Lilli. Have you heard how she's doing, by the way?"

"From what I've heard, she's about to have a baby."

"Really?" His violet eyes widened with excitement.

"I know, it's wonderful news. And to think that she only got married a year ago. I just wish the kingdom of Seychelles*wasn't so far away."

"Da. It would be nice to watch my grandbaby grow, to hold it, cuddle, and play…." Just then, a light bulb lit up in his head. "I got it!"

"Got what, Your Majesty?"

"Vash will get married. Since he's taking the throne after me, he will stay here. And then I'll have a grandbaby to play with!"

"Oh, um, okay then." Toris started scribbling in a notebook on his desk, strands of curly brown hair landing on the paper as he leaned forward. "You could probably bring up the subject for discussion at the banquet tonight."

King Ivan tilted his head like a confused little bird.

"What's there to discuss? All he has to do is find a girl, get hitched, and have a baby."

Toris sighed, setting his pen in the spine of his notebook.

"I'm afraid it's not that simple,"

"Why not? It was that simple when I got married. I saw what I wanted; so I took it."

The problem was that he tended to do this with _every_ decision he made. The Grand Duke gulped.

"Well… Prince Vash likes to take the time to think and strategize before making a decision, to see what options are out there."

"That shouldn't be a problem." He smiled, darkly.

Toris was seriously worried about where this was headed.

"You already have a plan."

King Ivan nodded. Raivis stirred, realized where exactly he was sleeping, and screamed, falling out of the king's lap and onto the squishy brown carpet. Panicked, the boy apologized profusely, and darted out the door. The king, unfazed by the interruption, explained his idea.

"We'll have a ball, you see, and have every eligible maiden attend…."

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><p>*I just picked Seychelles at random (shrug). It'd be a nice arranged marriage. Switzy probably wouldn't kill male Seychelles since from what I can tell, he's harmless (other than having a fish obsession, but hey. No one's perfect). Sey Sey and Lilli. In my head, they were besties in high school, or something. He probably won't view him as a threat. Probably.<p>

Disclaimer: characters in story are not as mine as they appear. Because they're not. So there.

Man, if I had my own set of guards, they would all wear glasses. Seriously.

Poor Latvia. I contemplated having Estonia on guard, too, but then who would run the palace security system? Eh, it'll work itself out eventually.

Thanks for all the love. If I were Seychelles, I'd be giving fish plushies to you all.

Sorry that this one's not as funny. Next time, you get to meet the messenger (the "message from the king" dude). Thanks for reading, please review, and I'll see you guys next time. :)


	3. Chapter 3

Recap: Alfred (America) is bored, Matthew (Canada) tries to get him on track, Berwald (Sweden) is hard to understand but means well, Raivis (Latvia) gets to learn how standing out in the workplace is not such a good idea, Toris (Lithuania) gives in to his boss's demands, and King Ivan (Russia) just wants some grandbabies.

High Standards: A Hetalicized Cinderella Story

Chapter Three: Distraction

Renate swept the entranceway, contentedly. The dustpan was overflowing, and she hadn't even swept very far yet. It was disturbing how much dirt could accumulate in one room, she decided, emptying the dustpan out the window. Maria must've tracked through the room five times, or something. Itabby watched intently from the bottom step of the staircase, meowing hungrily.

"You think I forgot what happened last time?" She asked the cat, who only meowed its confusion. The last time Cinderella had left the dustpan out, the gluttonous cat thought it was food. She ended up with a large mess, a choking cat, and an irate Louise shouting: "ITABBY!"

She sighed. While it would have been more fun to have the music practice, having extra work wasn't bad. After all, more work meant less time she'd have to spend with those… commoners.

As Renate mopped the floor by hand (no money for a mop), the sounds of a banshee, a cheap Bundy* flute (what else is durable enough to withstand being bashed against Maria's skull?), and a piano could be heard from the upstairs music room. Great.

Having perfect pitch, all she could do was sigh as the three created what could only be described as blasphemy against _real_ music. She had tried to tune them out by singing herself, but she found out quickly how hard it was to drown out amateurs. Along with being loud and obnoxious, they were always the first to adamantly deny it when you point out their obvious lack of musical talent. Go figure.

Thankfully, her savior came in the form of three curt knocks at the door. She threw aside her sponge and opened the door.

"Like, check this out! It's totally a message from the Grand Duke! He throws just the most wicked parties ever, and looks totally fab in a dress (even though you have to get him drunk first), if I do say so myself (and I totally do)!"

Normally, the cross-dressing messenger annoyed Renate to no end, but today, the blond in the pink mini-skirt was like an angel sent from the heavens.

"You have no idea how happy this makes me," she said, accepting the envelope like it was plated in gold.

"I'd be inclined to believe you, but like, that's the 27th time I've heard that today."

"Feliks," she sighed, "you're such a killjoy."

And with that, Renate slammed the door in his face. She ascended the stairs with her head held high.

Feliks blinked.

"Daaaamn."

* * *

><p>Renate inched closer to the music room, hating how the volume of the clashing tones and voices increased exponentially with each step. She put the envelope in her mouth, covering her ears as she pounded on the door with her elbow.<p>

Mercifully, the noise stopped, only to be replaced with bitching.

"What is your unawesome self doing here? The slave's quarters are in the attic. Oh, that's right, you're an_ aristocrat_."

"Speaking of," Stepmother said, closing the lid to the piano, "don't you have work you're supposed to be doing right now?"

"Ja, like cleaning." Louise added.

_Whatever, Louise. We all know about your cleaning addiction._

"I wouldn't have one if you did a more thorough job."

_Darn that Louise and her ability to read minds when the subject is cleaning._

"Just read the message."

She held out the envelope, Maria going wild when she recognizes the sunflower seal. Louise takes it before Maria has the chance, and begins to read aloud. When she gets to the part about how every maiden was to attend, Renate was already out the door and back into the hallway walking past portraits of her stepfamily.

Why should she go to the ball? It was the perfect opportunity to buy rat poison to kill off everyone in the house, or better yet, practice piano. Even if by some slim chance she'd be allowed to go, Cinderella wouldn't allow herself to indulge in something so frivolous. There would be other balls, but a whole evening to herself? It never happened.

The house quickly turned into a frenzy as both stepsisters freaked out over clothing, but for completely different reasons.

"Maria," Louise sighed from the doorway to her sister's bedroom. Maria poked her head out from the closet.

"What? I'm busy!"

"Clothes belong on hangers. Not in heaps on the floor."

"But-! How can I tell which ones I want and don't want to wear for the prince if I don't sort them?"

"I should applaud you for attempting to use logic, but-"

A neon pink sock slapped her right in the face.

"What do you mean, 'attempt'? I use logic all the time!"

She stood on a pile of assorted dresses, hands on her hips. Another pile was spread out over the unmade bed, slowly drooping over the side to meet the wood floor. The little yellow bird piyo'd as a shirt landed on his cage.

"… Uh huh."

"Shut up! You know what I mean. Besides, the lazy Cinderella standing over there'll clean it up."

Renate, who was leaning up against the railing of the stairs drinking tea, had been watching the two banter shamelessly. Her chores had no time limit, so she figured it would be good to enjoy a little free entertainment.

"I'm not lazy; I'm just taking a break."

In response, Maria dragged her into the chaotic bedroom by force.

"Help me pick clothes, peasant!"

Renate sighed. _Just suck it up, she'll be dead in less than 48 hours,_ she told herself. It still wasn't much of a consolation.

* * *

><p>*Bundy is a brand of flute that I used for marching band back in high school. God, I sound old saying that. Anyway, it sucked. It was an indestructible piece of crap.<p>

Yeah, sorry about the Seychelles confusion in the note of the last chapter. I corrected it, though. So it's all good. I was more amazed people noticed it. Thanks!

Well, thanks for stopping by, and feel free to leave a review.


	4. Chapter 4

Recap: Feliks (Poland) makes a totally awesome appearance, the stepsisters are preparing for the ball, and Renate (Austria) just wants some alone time to plot their murders.

High Standards: A Hetalicized Cinderella Story

Chapter Four: Resourceful

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><p>Evening has <em>finally<em> arrived. Renate held the door open as each person exited the house. First was Maria (because she's just that awesome), wearing a knee-length lime green dress. It had flowy sleeves that went to her elbows, a slight v-neck, and a belt. The skirt portion billowed out from the belt, and fluttered as she walked in her matching lime green heels. She had an asymmetrical white ponytail hanging off her right shoulder. Because symmetry is so not-awesome.

Next came Louise, wearing a fuchsia strapless dress her sister had forced her to wear (we'll be complimentary… and awesome!). It had tiny silver rhinestones in and upside down triangle on the bust, leading to the silver sash around her waist. The skirt section went straight to the floor where her silver heels poked up from beneath the fabric. Her blond hair was pulled back into a simple but serious bun.

Lastly there was stepmother, wearing a simple kelly green a-line dress and matching cardigan. She had her silver hair split into two equal parts, and plaited to the back where it was joined into one braid and wrapped into a bun. Basically it was Louise's hair, only way more severe (the silver hair doesn't help).

As they left under the light of the porch lamp, stepmother turned back to Renate with an icy glare.

"This house better still be standing when we return."

Renate merely nodded, inwardly rolling her eyes. If she wanted to commit arson, she'd make sure everyone was _inside_ the house first. Duh.

After they left, Renate spent a good hour and a half practicing at the piano. It felt so nice to get through an entire practice without Maria getting in the way (if you're curious, she was playing the overture from "Gypsy Baron" by Johann Strauss).

Now that _that_ was out of the way, she could concentrate on her murder plot.

Renate slipped into her stepmother's room to pilfer her money stash that she kept hidden with her jewelry. She wasn't going to need it if she was dead, right? From what she could tell, the woman never counted it. So if Renate chickened out this time, it's not like she was going to get caught.

She shut all the windows, locked up the house, and headed into town.

It had pretty much always been her responsibility to buy the groceries, and from an early age she discovered she had an amazing talent – haggling.

"Sir, these are common, ordinary potatoes. Why are they at $2.99 a pound, when down the street they sell for $.99 a pound? You are cheating good, hard-working people for a stupid potato. I demand compensation."

You'd be amazed what you could get if you whined enough, whether you are a picky five year old girl or a sixteen year old young lady with the same high standards. Good times, good times.

Ever since she hit her teens, there was one part of town Renate hated going by. In particular, a specific building: the bar. It's not like the drunks have ever given her that much of a problem (yet), and if they would, her friend Elizaveta the bouncer would take them out. You couldn't ask for a better friend, even though her boss was a total pervert.

"_bonjour, ma cherie!_" Francis, the bartender, hugged her from behind, the stubble on his chin irritating the sensitive skin of her neck.

"Kindly remove yourself from my person. I don't have the time to waste being groped by the likes of you. Don't you have a job to do, or something?"

"Ah, you are as blunt as I remember. But I don't remember the melons being this big. Whatever have you been feeding them?" as he fondled her, she flailed about.

"Get off!"

Clunk, plop.

"Thanks, Liz."

"No problem. Here, I'll trade you one idiot for another."

The brunette tossed a drunk guy out of the bar, and dragged Francis in with one fluid motion. Renate thought the bleach-blonde had passed out, but was proven wrong when he sat up and yelled, "One more drink!" at the door to the brick building. And then he started talking to a "Flying Mint Bunny."

_All right. Keep walking, and hopefully he won't see you. Keep going, keep going, keep-_

"'Ello, miss."

_Damn._

"I'm you – I'm you're fairy… flairygod… angel!"

And then he collapsed at her feet. The man was obviously suffering from some sort of delusion, although the Jack Daniel's probably wasn't helping things much. To make things worse, it looked like he lost some kind of bet. He wore a white toga and brown sandals, and attached to his back were wings that possibly came from a children's Halloween costume.

"Sir, you are clearly drunk. I need to go buy rat poison. I wish you a safe trip back to… wherever you came from, but I must be on my way."

Renate turned, but was stopped when the drunk tugged on the hem of her dress.

"You don't need to… need the rat poison."

She yanked the fabric from his grasp, eyeing the man coldly.

"I assure you, I do. The world is better off without them."

"There's a better, easier, more legal way to… oh, God… to get away from your stepsiblings."

He hobbled over to a trashcan in a nearby alley to puke. She patiently waited for him to finish. Sadly, this was the closest thing to a rational conversation she's had in a while, otherwise Renate would have left a while ago.

"How do you know I'm not just going to use it on rats?"

"I told you, I'm the fairygod… angel. I'm here to help you."

The man stumbled, nearly taking her down with him.

"You're going to help me by being drunk?"

"Nope," there was a crazy twinkle in his emerald eyes, "magic!"

And then she got bashed on the head with a toy wand.

"Ow! What the _hell_ is wrong with you?"

But when she opened her eyes, she was stunned. Renate was wearing a beautiful gown. It was royal blue, with cap sleeves extending to her wrists, ending in poofy cuffs made out of antique white lace. The skirt billowed out from the matching lace sash, ending at her ankles where she had a pair of brown leather dress shoes (not glass – it was impractical and dangerous if you broke them and cut your feet). Her hair was pretty much the same, only the old ribbon was replaced with some fancy comb with sapphires and diamonds.

"Exquisite," she admitted. Britannia Angel held up his hand.

"No… not done yet."

He hit a trash can (a different one than the one from before that he threw up in, obviously) with the tip of his wand, making a hollow tinny noise that reverberated slightly. Renate frowned as it turned into a white carriage. The ringing noise was off-pitch (a very flat D, to be exact).

"Well that's… resourceful."

He gave her a toothy grin.

"The best part's coming up – the team of horses."

Five drunks were conveniently expelled from the bar simultaneously.

"No. No way. I refuse to be driven anywhere by a team of drunks!"

He crossed his arms indignantly.

"Fine, fine. Have it your way."

So he opted for a couple of stray cats.

"Just remember," He called after her as she stepped into the carriage, "at the stroke, stroke of midnight… the spell, the spell will be broken."

She paused.

"Wait, so this is a rental?"

He laughed.

"Hell no. Why would I charge for a trash can and a bunch of bloody cats?"

* * *

><p>Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia or the Disney Cinderella movie. I didn't own it in the last chapter either, since I oopsed and forgot the disclaimer in the last chapter.<p>

No cats were harmed in the writing of this chapter. Just Renate's head where she got smacked with a toy wand.

Personally, this is my favorite chapter to write so far. Drunk Britannia Angel is just so… pffft.

Anyway, thanks for reading, and please review.


	5. Chapter 5

Recap: The stepfamily leave for the ball, and Cinderella (Austria) uses this time to steal Stepmother's (Germania's) money to buy rat poison for her murder plot, but is distracted by a drunk fairy...thing (Britannia Angel), and reluctantly goes to the palace afterall.

High Standards: A Hetalicized Cinderella Story

Chapter Five: Illogical

The trip to the royal palace was uneventful and slow. Through the small ornate window of the coach Renate saw parts of town she'd never seen before, as well as several people along the road. Many of which she didn't care to see again, like the mime in the park, or the guy feeding pigeons and laughing hysterically to himself. _Seriously_, what was up with that?

The further the carriage went, the larger and more spread out the houses were. They also became more well-kept, having lush, colorful gardens with flowers and foliage she didn't recognize. After an hour or so of travel, the silhouette of the palace stood out in the distance at the top of a hill, shining white from the illumination of the roaming spotlights behind the palace gates.

_Just how much do they spend on electricity?_ Was her only thought as the team of horses trotted over the cobblestone path.

* * *

><p>Meanwhile, Inside the Palace<p>

"Introducing, like, Miss Athena Karpusi of Greece!" Feliks yelled into the mic, squinting to read the names on the really long scroll that extended at least fifteen feet from the podium.

After being prodded awake by Aygül Adnan (by shouting "Wake up, stupid!"), Athena took the long walk up the red carpet to curtsey before Prince Vash. She wore her chocolate brown hair up in knots pinned back by jeweled combs (with cat paw print decorations). Her dress was a dark sage green sleeveless mermaid, and she moved with a slight scuttle, stifling a yawn as Athena slowly approached the Prince. He couldn't agree more, shifting uncomfortably in his green military uniform, the rifle strapped on his back growing heavy. He had been standing there for at least an hour, and the girls just kept showing up. This was all so annoying, and Prince Vash didn't want to think about how much this little celebration thing was costing them.

The king giggled in excitement from his balcony seat, clapping his hands as the Prince took the girl's hand, only to be disappointed when the girl was forced to leave with her numerous cats as the Prince fell into a sneezing fit. He was allergic to cats.

"Toris, let me ask you something."

The Grand Duke jumped, effectively ending his observation/daydream about the announcer at the microphone in the blue mini-skirt.

"Y-yes, Your Majesty?"

The king leaned over the rail, motioning with his hand toward the Prince, who rejected the next girl, someone named Chun-yan Wang, who stormed away in her soft pink ball gown.

"Where did I go wrong with him? There was nothing wrong with that girl, or the one before. The allergy problem is easy to fix – kill the cats. No more problem."

The Grand Duke repressed the urge to face-palm.

"I-it's not that, Sire." He turned his back on the Prince to face King Ivan, "It's just things like this take time. Weeks, months, even years before he finds someone compatible."

They both turned when they heard screaming. A fight had broken out between two girls; one appeared to be a loud albino in a lime green dress, while the other had a dark blue dress, long silver hair with a bow and… uh oh.

King Ivan started shivering, eyes wide with fear.

"Hide me, hide me, hide me, HIDE ME!"

The Grand Duke quickly put an arm around the king, directing the quivering man towards the secret exit that was built especially for the king to escape. It blended in perfectly with the back wall, its location marked by a tiny decorative sunflower on the wall. Toris jabbed it with his finger, and a door slowly creaked open. Both rushed inside.

"D-did she see us?"

They were surrounded by the comfort of the pitch black passageway. Toris lit a candle from a box just inside the secret door, making their faces glow eerily in the dim light.

"I don't know, but I think we'd better get moving."

* * *

><p>Back on the Main Floor<p>

"Get out of my way! I need to see Vanya so we can get married, married MARRIED!"

Natalia Arlovskaya, notorious stalker of King Ivan, was a very impatient woman. Most people know a crazed psychotic woman when they see one, and usually leave them the heck alone. However, there's always at least one person who decides that it would be alright to push the buttons until they would inevitably break. These people are usually cocky, or just plain dumb.

"Like _hell_ I'll get out of the way, stupid unawesome bitch!"

Of course, both are just as likely to occur.

As a crowd was starting to gather around the pair, Natalia drew her knives and someone close to the Prince asked if he was going to step in and separate them. He gave this person a stern look and said:

"When dealing with two dragons battling each other, it's best to stay neutral."

_After all_, he thought, heading toward the exit after pushing the panic button hidden under one of the large ballroom windows, _the_ _palace_ _guards_ _should_ _be_ _on_ _their way_ _by_ _now_.

* * *

><p>Upon her arrival, Renate was overwhelmed by the sheer size of the palace. So naturally, it didn't take long for her to get lost in one of the many winding, very similar-looking hallways. However, she had a lot of pride, so intending to make the best of it, she decided to stare at the paintings on the walls and pretend that she found them interesting. Little did she know that if she were to follow the corridor and take a right, Renate would have found the main ball room.<p>

When she heard footsteps, Renate turned and was face to face with a blond man in a green military uniform, with a rifle strapped to his back. He stood next to her, looking as bored as she felt.

"So… why aren't you in there with the other girls?"

Renate brushed some microscopic dust from her sleeve.

"I'm not really one for crowds."

Not really. She wouldn't mind having to perform a little light music on the piano, or socializing to establish some connections. She just didn't want to admit that she was lost.

"Even if you could meet the Prince?"

A faint smile dusted her lips as she tilted her head back. She was very pretty when she smiled, which was rare these days, but he didn't know that.

"I wouldn't mind, but I'd much rather be playing piano, or coming up with new schemes to get rid of my stepsister's cat."

"You don't like cats, I take it?"

She glared at the painting before her.

"I abhor animals."

He chuckled, stepping closer.

"As do I, but my little sister just loves them."

They stood in silence for a moment, gazing at the generic painting of an older gentleman.

"So, what do you think of this man's work?"

An opinion question. Good thing Renate had a lot of opinions.

"Meh, it's okay. The brushstrokes tell me the artist was bored, wanted to experiment, but couldn't because he was forced to do the portrait of some ancient geezer for bread money."

The man stepped forward, running his fingertips along the carved wood frame.

"This is a portrait of my great-grandfather."

She met his gaze unapologetically. He had the eyes of a wolf – green, fierce, and piercing. A challenge. Renate never backed away from a challenge.

"But I disagree," he said, with the faintest trace of a smile, "The artist probably spent the commission money on white fabric and shoelaces. Artists tend to waste their money on the strangest things*."

She laughed. Whoever this guy was, he was alright.

"I like you," he admitted, blushing slightly. "You're not a bimbo like the girls back in the ball room. Would you care to dance with me?"

"No thank you." Renate said quickly. It was obvious she didn't even take time to think about it.

He smirked.

"Good. I hate dancing. It's such a stupid formality. Tell me, if you were to happen on a large sum of money, would you spend it, save it, or give it away?"

She frowned, thinking.

"Well, spending and giving away money is practically the same thing, isn't it? Saving it would be the best option. It's good to have things stashed away in case of an emergency. I prefer to use what I have wisely, and spend when I have to."

"Like on clothes?" He glanced at her gown pointedly. Renate snorted.

"Are you kidding? I got this from a drunk man in a toga."

They laughed, but the fun was cut short when the clock struck twelve. She politely excused herself, saying it was a lovely evening, how nice it was to meet him, and so on.

"Wait – at least tell me your name!"

She turned back dramatically, her hair whipping behind her head.

"Names are inconsequential. But if you really want to find me, then use this." She placed an object in his hand.

"A shoe?"

When he looked up to tell her how illogical it was, she had already disappeared.

* * *

><p>*We do. We totally do. Although, I spend my money on cat food and replacement sticks for my hot glue gun. (Shrug)<p>

Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia, and I don't have the guts to go against Disney (shiver), so I don't own their animated Cinderella movie, either. People in suits are scary.

I would've had this out sooner, but the server wouldn't let me upload the chapter. Grr.

And I picked the name Aygül for Turkey at random. And because it has an umlaut. I'm a dork like that.

Thanks for reading, reviewing, and all that. I really appreciate it.


	6. Chapter 6

Recap: Renate (Austria) arrives at the ball, but gets lost in the hallways. Maria (Prussia) and Natalia (Belarus) get into a skirmish, and Prince Vash (Switzerland) sneaks away and bumps into Renate. They are both instantly smitten, and Renate leaves him with a shoe she's only worn once. How wasteful. Love does many strange things, apparently.

High Standards: A Hetalicized Cinderella Story

Chapter Six: In Which the Ball is Like a Shoe Factory

* * *

><p>"Bitch! I said get out of my way!"<p>

The knife went soaring through the air. Maria easily dodged it.

"Aren't you out of knives yet? I'm just going to keep dodging them all night, you know. That's just how the awesome rolls!"

"Shut up." Natalia then trips over a spilled drink on the floor, crying: "Motherfucker!"

Maria grinned, standing over her with her hands held innocently behind her back.

"Then don't leave your mother on the streets! Kesesesese – hey!"

Louise had finally managed to break away from this clingy Italian girl, Felicita, who had stayed glued to her side before and especially during the fight.

Felicita stood a few feet away in her sky blue A-line, waving a little white flag she made out of a white napkin and a fork, bawling her eyes out. Louise snuck up behind her sister and pinned her arms (since they were already behind her back anyway), forcing her to the ground.

Natalia pushed her way through the crowd. Now that the stubborn albino was out of the way, things would be much easier. Unfortunately for her, this is when the Royal Guard showed up.

"Have no fear, the Hero is here!"

Alfred burst in through the double doors by the food tables along the wall, standing with his legs shoulder-width apart, one arm on his hip, and the other holding his rifle in the air. Natalia just glared at him.

"…Stay out of my way."

Alfred laughed, the sound ringing through the room even as the other guests were still fleeing in terror.

"But I'm the hero! Are you the damsel in distress? I'll protect you!"

And then he disappeared. Natalia blinked, and then shrugged it off. Whatever. There were more important things to get to, like wedding plans.

She turned, and there was Alfred, suddenly behind her. Before she knew what was going on, Alfred had lifted her in his arms, bridal style. Natalia immediately started flailing and squirming.

"Whoa, settle down there! You wouldn't want me to drop you, right?"

"Shut up and put me down."

Alfred laughed again, thinking about how cute she was when she was pouting. Never mind the fact that she was hitting, kicking, and threatening him as he jovially moseyed over to the door, ignoring how his rifle smacked against his back.

"Hey, I have a neat idea! Let's go to McDonald's to celebrate me being totally heroic, and you being saved from the clutches of evil!"

"We're in the 18th century, moron. McDonald's doesn't exist yet."

"… That's what the commie's would lead you to believe. Don't worry, I'll show them! To McDonald's! Up, up and away!"

* * *

><p>Meanwhile, his brother Matthew had snuck in behind him, and slipped into the crowd unnoticed. Now that Natalia has been taken care of… ish, someone needed to calm down the guests before people got trampled. Berwald tried to do the same, but instead ended up scaring the crap out of this blonde waiter who immediately eeped and dropped his tray of cheese and crackers.<p>

"'r' y' 'k'y?" (Are you okay?)

Tino's lip trembled, and momentarily he forgot how to breathe. Not because of how intimidating or how insanely handsome the stranger was in that uniform. No, he was scared because he dropped the food.

"Oh, no!"

He hurridly tried to recover what he could, but most of the cheap crackers were dry, and broke instantly when they hit the floor.

"I'm going to be punished for wasting food!" Tino cried in despair, rubbing at his eyes as the tears welled up.

Before you laugh at how easily he broke down and cried, remember that King Ivan was often cruel and harsh with his punishments for things most people would consider trivial. If you were in Tino's place, you'd be crying, too.

When a large hand was placed on his shoulder, Tino jumped.

"'ll pr't'ct y'," (I'll protect you.)

Tino looked up, shocked.

"Wh-why?"

"S'mpl'. Y'r' m' w'f'. 't's m' j'b t' pr't'ct y'." (Simple. You're my wife. It's my job to protect you.)

He took the smaller blonde's hand, leading him away from the chaos of the ballroom and into the hallway. There was something about the way he said it that was oddly comforting.

"Wait… wife?"

* * *

><p>Around the same time, another fateful meeting took place. Taking advantage of the chaos, Lovino Vargas abandoned his little sister and headed toward the food table (calmly, of course. He most certainly didn't run in terror) to get better access to the food (and to not hide under the table or check out the hot Spanish waiter grinning stupidly by the punch bowl).<p>

"_Hola!_ Would you like some punch?"

"Get the fuck out of my way,"

He pushed him aside to lift the tablecloth, glad that no one had thought to hide there yet. Less than two seconds passed before the waiter joined Lovino under the table.

"Wh-what the hell? Why did you follow me, perverted bastard?"

He only grinned.

"I'm not a bastard. My parents loved me very much."

"Pffft, whatever. You just admitted to being a pervert, pervert."

"I'm not a pervert, either. I'm just Antonio. Right, Mr. Turtle?"

He pulled a baby turtle out of nowhere.

"What the – are you a fucking hoarder, or something? How the hell-"

Antonio placed the turtle on his head. He was weird, in a cute sort of way, but of course, Lovino would never admit it.

"Great, so you're a fucking magician, too?"

"Si! And I have a special cheer-up charm, just for you!" He inched closer, and at the same time, Lovino scooted back.

"… Just stay the hell away from me!"

* * *

><p>Elizaveta crawled out from under the table, dissatisfied with the lack of yaoi captured on her camcorder. Nearby stood Sakura Honda, frowning as she scrolled through the photos saved on her small digital camera.<p>

"So disappointing," They said in unison, and then their eyes met. They shifted uncomfortably, and after what seemed like an eternity of awkwardness, finally began showing each other their materials.

"This isn't half bad," Elizaveta hummed, viewing picture after picture of Berwald blushing, and Tino's confused but adorable facial expressions.

"This has some real potential," Sakura whispered, smiling a little as she watched Lovino punch Antonio in the gut on the screen of the camcorder. Both girls smiled. It was weird how they just randomly started sharing things with each other even though they just met. Maybe they sensed the desire for acceptance in each other, or the reassurance that stalking people to make homemade porn didn't make them crazy.

Elizaveta's eyes gleamed.

"We should team up." Sakura nodded.

"Agreed."

Simultaneously across the kingdom, all males that were gay or questioning their sexualities shivered, knowing something unpleasant was about to go down.

* * *

><p>Disclaimer: Hetalia is kickass, and I will never have the awesome privilege of owning it. Unless it's for sale. And I magically have a bajillion dollars. So yeah, not happening. Ditto on the Cinderella movie.<p>

Fem!Italy isn't that much of a stretch, but I refuse to genderbend Lovino. He shall forever in my mind be that awkward Italian boy denying his feelings for that likeable Spaniard. Oh, and for the reason why he was at the ball – supposedly Lovino wanted to watch over his little sister, and make sure this "prince" wouldn't try to harm her, since she's so naïve, or something. Never mind the fact that he totally ran away and left her with Louise….

See you next time. Thanks for reading, and please review.


	7. Chapter 7

Recap: Natalia (Belarus) and Maria (Prussia) get interrupted during their fight, Alfred (America) plays the hero, Matthew (Canada) goes unnoticed as usual, and a flood of superfluous pairings (Spamano, SuFin) occur.

High Standards: A Hetalicized Cinderella Story

Chapter Seven: Wherein the Shit Hits the Fan

* * *

><p>The Grand Duke took a very deep breath.<p>

"Okay," he sighed, "the good news is the Prince has found someone he wishes to pursue. The bad news is she kind of ran away, but we can find her with a shoe… oh God, that sounds so _stupid!_"

Toris paced down the hallway outside of his office, clutching the slipper tightly with both hands. The guards hadn't returned yet from their… escapades, so the hall was empty except for Raivis, who had somehow managed to fall asleep during all that chaos and had nowhere else to go (poor kid).

"Well," Toris gulped, "I suppose I could just _not_ tell him, or would that be worse?"

"I don't think it really matters." Raivis said, staring straight ahead.

"Really?"

"Yeah, because you're screwed either way."

Toris pinched the bridge of his nose.

"_Thanks,_"

"No problem."

He gathered up his courage and opened the door to his office. For the past several hours, King Ivan has been hiding in a secret crawl space conveniently located behind one of his house plants.

Well, the sooner he got this over with, the better.

Toris' knees trembled as he scooted the vase further away from the hidden door, buckling as he tried to knock.

"Y-your Majesty? It's m-me. Y-your sister has b-been removed from the p-premises, so you can c-come out n-now."

The tiny door slowly creaked open, and somehow the King squeezed himself out. Toris took his hand, and led him to the couch that groaned under his weight as he eased himself down.

"Are y-you sure she's g-gone?"

"P-p-positive," Toris collapsed into his cushy office chair, "A-Alfred took her to M-McDonald's, saying it w-was a sin that she'd never eaten there b-before."

King Ivan instantly recovered, sitting tall with his back straight, smiling.

"That's good to hear. Remind me to up his pay and give extra incentives to take her out a lot. And by the way, have you heard anything on Vash? Has he managed to find anyone yet?"

"A-a-as a matter of fact…"

~ .D.N.I.W.E.R~

"Grand Duke! Grand Duke! Oh, thank_ God_."

Prince Vash doubled over, hands on his knees to catch his breath. Toris assumed he was out of breath from dancing, or something.

"Yes, Your Highness?"

"I need your help, it's driving me insane!"

"Um, what exactly is driving you insane, if I may ask?"

"Her fucking riddles! I finally find a girl worth talking to (other than Lilli), and she just leaves me with this!" He shoves the shoe into Toris' face. "How do you find someone with a _shoe_?"

"Uh… try the shoe on everyone's feet in the kingdom to find who it fits? Perhaps a tracking device in the shoe?"

Prince Vash's eyes narrowed dangerously. Toris recognized that look from his father, the king, and shivered.

"Who the _hell_ puts a tracking device in a shoe?"

"Sorry, sorry! Forget I mentioned it at all. It was only a suggestion, Your Highness."

"Whatever. We'll go with the first one, even though it's kind of stupid. There could be hundreds of girls with the same shoe size!"

"Well, do you remember what she looked like?"

"…No."

"…"

"But she liked saving money."

"This is going to be _quite_ the experience," Toris muttered under his breath, "Okay, so would you mind accompanying me to explain all of this to your father?"

"Sorry, you're on your own. It's been so long since I've used the Royal Firing Range… I think I'm having withdrawal."

The Grand Duke stepped aside to let the Prince through. His gun obsession was unnatural, but to keep him from his hobbies is to know what it feels like to have a bullet go through your head. Or in Prince Vash's case, forty three bullets and a water pipe. Sometimes the King liked to get in on the fun for "family bonding time".

Again, Toris shivered.

"I hate my life."

~F.A.S.T.F.O.R.W.A.R.D.~

"A-a-as a matter of fact…yes."

King Ivan giggled, clapping his hands and kicking his feet like a kid about to get cake, ice cream, chocolate, French fries, a hamburger, and yogurt all in one go. In other words, Alfred on any given day at lunch time (the yogurt is so he can claim he's 'eating healthy').

"Really? Who is she? Where's she from? Have I met her before? Or her father, perhaps?"

Toris gulped.

"Um, w-well you see... she's sort of a m-mysterious girl who-."

"A mysterious girl? A bit cliché, but… wait. Repeat that last part."

The room suddenly grew colder, and the Grand Duke's chair was no longer a comfortable place to be in.

"Y-yeah, um, I-I-"

"Spit it out, _Toooorrrriiisss_." He drew out the vowels and his water pipe at the same time, eyes darkening and smile widening.

"She-sh-sh-sh-she-" When the purple aura surrounded the King like a dark cloud, he knew he was toast. Mmm, toast.

"_Kol kol kol…_"

"The girl disappeared and no one could find her-_aaaaahhhhh!_"

Toris leapt up as the water pipe crashed into his desk, chopping it in half like a celery stick. King Ivan was obviously not a big fan of vegetables.

"B-but she left-_aaah!_" He ducked, hiding behind one of the large decorative vases. "She left a clue to lead-oomph!"

Toris jumped out, rolling across the floor and nimbly landing on the other side of the couch.

"How do you do that?" King Ivan asked, now throwing office supplies that Toris dodged gracefully.

"I dated Natalia for three years."

"… Ouch."

"I have Aflac, it's all good."

King Ivan quickly ran out of objects to throw, and then he spotted the brown slipper. He picked it up, curiously.

"Toris, why do you have a _ladies'_ slipper in your office?"

"That – it doesn't belong to me! The girl! The mystery girl dropped it as she fled and Prince Vash believes that if we try it on every girl in the kingdom, the girl who fits it will be The One!"

King Ivan blinked.

"Really?"

Toris nodded.

"That sounds really stupid, but since it's Vash… I'll accept it."

Huh. So if Prince Vash says something, the King will automatically go with it? Toris mentally pocketed the information for later use.

King Ivan laughed as he headed for the exit, speaking quietly to himself.

"As long as _someone_ becomes Vash's bride (and give me grandbabies), I'll be happy."

He tossed the shoe on the pile of wood that was Toris' desk, causing the carefully balanced stack of debris to collapse, emitting a cloud of dust.

The Grand Duke sighed, oozing into his desk chair once more. It was probably horrible for his back, but he didn't care. All Toris knew was he was going to need a _lot _of help. He needed a new desk, office supplies, and a ride to _every_ household in the kingdom with a female inhabitant.

This was going to take a while. Especially considering how he wasn't exactly in the know as far as who lives where and all that.

"I hate my life," he muttered for the second time that day.

Then suddenly, without so much as a knock, the door slammed open.

"Like, is this the office of the Grand Duke? My gossip senses were tingling."

Okay, maybe his life wasn't _that_ bad.

Feliks sashayed into the room, and gasped.

"Oh mah God, what happened to your desk? We are _so_ going to go shopping right this minute!"

The cross-dresser linked their arms together, yanking him through the door. Now usually, Toris was not that big a fan of physical contact, being around King Ivan for so long….

…But he really did need a new desk.

"I like your shirt. It's nice."

Feliks perked up.

"Really? You think so?"

"Uh huh, it brings out the color of your eyes."

Feliks gasped.

"Thanks so much, the store clerk was totally right! I'm Feliks, by the way."

They shook hands.

"Charmed."

They passed by the King in the hallway, who was spinning around with a crying Raivis, shouting "I'm going to be a grandfather!" over and over.

"… And Raivis can be the grandmother!"

The boy passed out. Again. The King giggled.

"I keep telling you not to sleep here. Silly Raivis."

* * *

><p>"Did you get it?" Elizaveta whispered, securing the metal ladder they borrowed so that it wouldn't shake.<p>

"Hai," Sakura whispered back, turning off the camcorder as she prepared to descend the ladder. "How do you say… two in one special?"

Elizaveta smirked.

"Niiiiice,"

Meanwhile, the palace attack dogs snore peacefully, legs twitching in their sleep, surrounded by piles of T-bone steak bones.

* * *

><p>Disclaimer: Guess what? It's opposite day. I own Hetalia. Mine, mine, mine.<p>

I knew there were a few pairings I was leaving out. And I totally skimped on the GerIta in the last chapter, but there'll be more later, I think. And yes, there will be eventual PruCan, so no worries. :)

I like writing a stressed out, very confused Switzerland. He kind of has tiny explosions now and then, cured by visits to the firing range. And then there's poor Latvia. He won't get hurt, though – Estonia is working the camera security system in the palace, and will randomly jump in and save him, or something.

Also, while Feliks knows everyone who works in the palace, Toris is so busy trying to avoid King Ivan's wrath to bother learning names and faces. Feliks will definitely be changing that.

It really makes me happy that you guys are enjoying this, even if the writing is all over the place. Thanks for reading this far, and please review.


	8. Chapter 8

Recap: The Grand Duke (Lithuania) is stuck with the seemingly impossible task of finding the owner of a shoe, or face the wrath of Prince Vash (Switzerland) and King Ivan (Russia). At least he has the help of the resident gossip queen (king?), Feliks (Poland).

High Standards: A Hetalicized Cinderella Story

Chapter Eight: Karma

* * *

><p>Renate woke up to the harsh mid-day sun in her eyes, and instantly shot up out of bed. This was weird. She never overslept. Never. It was like asking for the perfect opportunity for Maria to ambush her. Renate shivered as she glanced around the room, expecting the worst.<p>

But none of her things had been stolen. Her hair hadn't been cut or dyed some God-awful color like lime green, fuschia, or Prussian blue. There were no immature doodles of monocles, mustaches, or male genitalia drawn on her face with permanent marker, either. Very odd, indeed.

What worried her most was how eerily quiet the house seemed*.

Tentatively, Renate walked down the stairs, keeping her eyes peeled and ears alert for anything unusual. Once she made it to the main floor, she found stepmother at the window, her eyes following the winding driveway out front as if she were waiting for something. Also, there were several loud thumps from upstairs she hadn't noticed before, followed by Maria cursing. It was any wonder Renate hadn't been woken up earlier, it was that loud. The attic couldn't be _that_ well insulated.

But anyway, something was _definitely_ going on, and she was about to get to the bottom of it.

And then, on the floor by the hallway mirror, she noticed a shredded envelope lay on the floor. Apparently Maria had answered the door that morning, she mused, picking up the letter which had landed close by.

To every eligible maiden of the kingdom:

This letter has been sent to inform you of the events that transpired on the night of the Prince's Get Hitched Ball/Celebratory Feast.

While we apologize for any damage sustained, please remember that we are not responsible for any injuries or clothing bills. Hopefully

the news we are about to reveal will make up for any mental and/or emotional scarring you may have inevitably received.

Sometime during the night of the ball, our beloved Prince Vash made the acquaintance of a very lovely, eloquent

maiden, and wishes to marry her. However, no one knows who this chick is. In her flight from the Palace last night,

the girl reportedly dropped one of her slippers. It is believed that with this slipper, the Prince's mystery girl shall be found.

Arriving at your house sometime between 9 am and 6 pm will be the Grand Duke and his fabulous assistant,

with the aforementioned shoe, of course. Remember – if the shoe fits, there will be a wedding. And then the rest of you losers

will have a royal wedding to be excited/obsessed over.

-The Grand Duke and his fabulous assistant, Feliks ;)

_Well_, _that_ _was_ _very_ _interesting_, she thought, pocketing the letter and heading back up the stairs. While most people would be shocked and possibly elated to know they've spent time with a prince, Renate realized a long time ago that coincidences _do_ happen. Therefore, there was no reason to be surprised. After all, she was an aristocrat. _Why_ _wouldn't_ a _well-bred man such as Prince Vash wish to marry me?_ She pondered, not noticing the suspicious gaze of her stepmother as Renate headed back up the stairs to the attic, smiling softly.

* * *

><p>After placing the spare slipper into the pocket of her apron, Renate wound her way around several large boxes and came face-to-face with the foreboding form of her stepmother.<p>

"Hello. Um, do you need assistance locating something?"

Odd, usually her speech was very smooth and controlled, even under the somewhat intimidating gaze of her stepmother. So why was she sounding so… tongue-tied? Maybe it was the way those eyebrows furrowed, or the stern look in her eyes as she crossed her arms, scowling in displeasure.

"Yes, as a matter of fact. It seems there is $45 missing from my drawers. Would you have any idea as to where it might have disappeared to?"

Great. This was _so_ what she needed right now.

"You keep money in drawers? How… unoriginal. What about under loose floorboards? Behind bookshelves? Behind wall paneling? Inside-"

"I'm glad someone finds this amusing. I counted my money before leaving last night, and then in the morning, lo and behold, something is missing. Explain this to me, since you were the only one here last night."

Crap. Okay, time to play dumb.

"Are you sure it wasn't Maria?"

After all, she steals from _everyone_. Even from Renate, who didn't exactly own much.

"When we returned, which was very early in the morning, Maria crashed once she got into bed. I was glad, too, since she wouldn't stop talking about the stupid fight she had with some crazy bitch she met at the ball. Even if it was her, Maria isn't exactly stealthy. The noise would've woken me up. And Louise wouldn't have a reason to steal my money, since she's the only one with a job around here. Which leaves you, and Itabby. You're a smart girl, I'm sure you can figure out who the obvious suspect is."

Having rendered Renate speechless, her stepmother exited the room, and began shutting the door, turning what sounded like a key.

"W-wait, what are you doing?"

"Punishing. You didn't know there was a key to the attic, did you?"

No, she certainly did not. Freaking _fantastic_.

Most girls by now would be throwing themselves against the door, banging with their fists and crying pathetically about how life was unfair and so on, but Renate wouldn't lower herself to such a banal act of self-expression.

Instead, she strolled over to the door, and tried the doorknob in the hope that it was just locked incorrectly. And of course, like everything stepmother did (with the exception of being drunk when Maria was conceived - at least with Louise she could claim there was some sort of planning involved), it was done the right way the first time. Of course.

So next, Renate decided to opt for option #2: call for help, and bribe if necessary. She pushed a stack of boxes towards the window, being careful to not spill the contents on the floor. She was probably making all kinds of noises, but there was no way Renate was going to pass up an opportunity to advance in the social hierarchy. A lot of time and energy had already been invested – it'd be a waste to not attempt an escape.

When everything was set and looked sturdy, she began clambering up.

The window was small, square, and what window panes were there were so dirty, she couldn't see through them, except for the broken one from a neighbor's baseball game a few years back. Ever since then, the birds have kept flying in and out of their own free will.

Said birds were perched on a limb on the tree next to the house, looking over at her expectedly, as if to say _we'll help, but there's something we require of _**you**_ first_. Renate puffed out her cheeks in annoyance.

"You've got to be kidding me."

The fowls tilted their heads as if to say _nope_. She sighed.

"Okay, look. I don't believe in magic, and I certainly don't believe in talking to animals. However, I _suppose_ I am willing to forgo all of that if you'd be so kind as to help me."

They squawked, as if talking among themselves, before departing in a flurry of beating wings and shed feathers. Great.

"It helps if you butter them up with food, poppet."

At the sound of chuckling, she turned to find Britannia Angel, smirking at her as he hovered several feet in the air, arms crossed.

Renate did what any sane person would do in this situation – she screamed.

* * *

><p>* Much like in hospitals or really, anywhere, it's generally not a good idea to admit how quiet a place is. Bad things always follow.<p>

Disclaimer: Do I own Hetalia or the Cinderella Disney film? *googles copyright information* Ah, no.

Yes, it helps if you butter up your fowl friends with food. The ducks at the pond by my house definitely agree with that. Except for the mother ducks and the even more ferocious mother Canadian geese. I had one chase me for a good mile or so for getting too close to a gosling. So mean. Is it my fault they look so cute, fuzzy, and huggable? That is your evolutionary downfall – adorable offspring. It's what killed off the pink sparkly unicorns, I tell you.

…I'm high on fixative (you spray it on drawings so they don't smudge) and tired from the first week of classes being done. Ignore me.

Although I am working on making a little pink sparkly unicorn plushie. And I shall name him Iggy.

And yes, stepmother doesn't have a job. And apparently was very promiscuous in her youth.

Please review. I appreciate what you guys have to say, and have said, for the awesome people who have left multiple reviews. Thanks a bunch. Buh byes until next time.


	9. Chapter 9

Recap: Renate (Austria) wakes up late, discovers the Prince (Switzerland) is looking for her, and her stepmother (Germania) locks her in the attic for stealing her money. Oh yeah, and Britannia Angel pops up out of nowhere. Yay!

High Standards: A Hetalicized Cinderella Story

Chapter Nine: Iggity Bippity Boo

* * *

><p>Renate screamed, falling off of the box pile, which tumbled loudly with her. She gracefully recovered, brushing off the dust as she stood up and acted like nothing happened. Britannia Angel covered his ears.<p>

"Stop screaming, for God's sake. You're making my head hurt more than it already does."

He fluttered down, the white wings attached to his back moving daintily as he landed. She could now see just how bloodshot his eyes were.

"There's a question I've been meaning to ask, but since I was in such a rush the other day I never had the chance." Renate began, fixated by the tiny white wings. How could they possibly support a man of his size?

"Oh, um… alright. Go ahead and ask away."

He waved his wand in the air before tapping the open palm of his left hand. With a poof of white smoke, a glass of water and two pills appeared.

"Do you do children's parties?" *

Britannia Angel spat out his water.

"_Excuse_ me?"

"You are excused. What I mean is, have you ever considered doing your magic act thing for children's parties? You would be really good at it, provided you curb the alcohol use, of course."

"Hey, I can bloody well do what I want on Friday nights… or mornings. And why the hell does everyone think I should work at children's parties?"

Without missing a beat, Renate answered.

"The eyebrows. Those things would captivate even the most unruly child."

In the next instant, his face turned beet red, and he rose steadily higher in the air as his wings beat faster.

"Sod off! You can just sod off, for all I care! I'm only trying to do the nice gentlemanly thing of helping you get out of here, but _no_! Apparently it's more fun to criticize my drinking habits and appearance-"

"Wait a minute," she grabbed Britannia Angel's wrist, pulling him back down to the ground. "There's a way out?"

"Of _course_ there's a way out!" He yanked his arm from her grasp. "I got in, didn't I? And not through the blinking window, either. You've got to be a pixie to fit through that damn thing. No offence." He said to a floor lamp. Great. The craziness carried over to his sober hours.

"So… how _do_ we get out of here?"

"Simple," Britannia Angel huffed, crossing his arms. "I mutter an incantation, wave my magic wand, and the door will open right up."

"Oh, okay. Carry on, then."

Smirking, Britannia Angel dramatically rolled up his sleeves (what little there was to roll up), and raised his wand.

"Iggity bippity boo!"

A cloud of green smoke enveloped Renate, and when it cleared, she had turned into a small blonde boy with bunny ears and a green cloak, with Britannia Angel's epic eyebrows.

"Change me back!" The little boy/animal hybrid shrieked.

"Apologize for insulting me."

"Fine," the adorable little chibi pouted. "I recant what I said earlier."

"I suppose that's good enough," Britannia Angel sighed, waving the wand again. "Boo bippity iggity!"

And thus, Renate was once again in her regular form.

"Thank you. _Now_ can we get out of here?"

He only grinned.

"Oh, sure." He turns to face the door, shouting "Open Sesame!" and clapping his hands. The door slowly creaks open.

"That's all?" Irritated, she stomped over to the door, yanking on the doorknob so it opened wider.

"Nope. For your insolence, I think I'll have to demand a fee."

She turned, hand still on the doorknob, deadpanning.

"How much do you want?"

"What is with your obsession with money? Just get me an invite to the royal wedding."

Renate furrowed her eyebrows in confusion.

"What royal wedding?"

Like a Cheshire cat, he smirked, waving her on.

"Oh, you'll know soon enough. Now get going, there's a Jack Daniel's in the bar down the street with my name on it."

Giving him one last look of exacerbation, she slammed the door, sprinting down the stairs. Britannia Angel glanced at the little purple pixie sitting on the edge of the lampshade, who merely shrugged. He crossed his arms, scowling.

"… Wanker."

* * *

><p>Meanwhile, Downstairs<p>

_Crash!_

"Like, what the hell was that?" Feliks asked, carrying the shoe on a red velvety, over-stuffed pillow. Toris looked up at the ceiling, worried.

"It's probably just the cat," Stepmother said.

Everyone nodded except Maria, who could always recognize the difference between when a cat knocked something over, or when a clumsy person did it. She grinned, knowingly.

"Would it be okay to skip the formalities?" The Grand Duke asked, nervously. "You see, there is a really long message I'm supposed to read to you, but it sort of got eaten by the dogs at the last house, and-"

"Awesome!"

Maria started doing her "Victory of Awesomeness" dance, where she alternated between pumping her fists in the air and spinning around in wild, uninhibited circles.

Stepmother and Louise made eye contact, a nonverbal communication that went something like _"Shall I?"_ _"Yeah, go ahead. __**Please**__."_

Louise quietly approached her sister, and punched her in the stomach. Toris winced. Feliks tried to stifle his giggles (and failed). Stepmother rolled her eyes.

Before Maria could hit the ground, her younger sister easily slung her over her shoulder, and carried her across the room where her limp body was deposited onto the chocolate brown love seat.

"Good. It'll be peaceful for a while." Stepmother monotoned. "Shall we go ahead and begin? None of us will mind if you forgo the message, whatever it was."

"O-oh, okay, then. Er… there are only two maidens in this household, correct?"

_Thump. Thump_.

"Yes, that is correct." Stepmother scowled. What on earth was that child up to?

The Grand Duke breathed a heavy sigh of relief.

"Oh, thank God. I-I mean good, great!" He laughed awkwardly, and it shifted into a small cough.

"Like, are you okay, Rissy?" Feliks pats him on the back, lip pouting in concern.

"I'm fine, but my name's Toris, not Rissy."

"So how does this work?" Louise asks, eyeing the little brown shoe.

"It's tots easy," Feliks skooches her to a seat not occupied by Maria. "Just sit your booty down, take off your right shoe, and we'll get started."

Louise just stood there, puzzled.

"What is a 'booty'?"

"Girl, just sit your ass down."

* * *

><p>*If you recognize where I got this from, you are awesome. If not, no worries. You, too, can be awesome. Go to youtube and find Rowan Atkinson. I want to say the name of the skit was "Amazing Jesus," but I could be wrong. If you find a funny looking dude in a preacher's robes, you've got the right one.<p>

Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia or the Disney version of Cinderella, just the charcoal on my hands. Why must ye be so hard to wash off? Darn school and your assigning artwork to be completed over Labor Day….

Well, that was interesting. Feliks is now more of a feisty diva than a valley girl, which I kind of prefer. He makes a lovely compliment to workaholic Toris, who needs someone wacky to teach him to loosen up. Or create more drama in his life, I'm not sure which.

Itabby was raiding the pantry for gormet cat food during this scene, if anyone was wondering. He just seems like the kind of cat that runs and hides when visiters appear, and seeks comfort in food. Sort of like my little Russian blue cat, Misty, only she doesn't eat all that much. When delivery people show up to give me the goodies I buy off Ebay, she darts under the couch. Poor thing.

Thank you for reading, and please feel free to leave a review.


	10. Chapter 10

Recap: There was much fun to be made of Britannia Angel's eyebrows and drinking habits, Maria (Prussia) is out cold on the sofa, and Louise (Germany) doesn't know what a booty is. Fun, fun, fun.

High Standards: A Hetalicized Cinderella Story

Chapter Ten: Revenge Feels _So_ Good

* * *

><p>It took exactly a minute of scrunching her toes for Louise to give up. She had always had enormous feet, so it came as no surprise that it wouldn't fit. Meanwhile, they were still being interrupted by the constant banging sounds and loud voices coming from the attic (which Stepmother blamed on a T.V. Maria supposedly left on).<p>

"But aren't we, like, in the late 18th century?"

"Don't know, don't care." Maria muttered, semi-consciously from the loveseat.

"Yeah, I'm pretty sure it's the late-"

"I said I don't care, dammit!" Maria sat up, still a little out of it from Louise punching her.

"You there, slave." She snaps her fingers at Feliks. "Gimme the shoe so I can get my awesome hands on some hot piece of princely ass."

"Like, nuh-uh, bitch." He placed a hand on his hip, Felik's personal 'don't mess with me' pose. "You get off your totally lazy ass and get it yourself."

Maria gawked.

"Cross-dressing bitch say what?"

"SHUT UP!"

"Louise!" Maria shouts, pausing with her fists full of designer fabric.

"Just get on with it so they can finally end their search." Stepmother monotone.

"Please," Toris quipped.

"(Sigh) Fine. Gimme that."

Maria grabs the shoe from her sister, hastily cramming in her toes.

"Ta da!"

The Grand Duke steps forward, and squeezed the end of her foot.

"Ow! Let go of my awesome foot!"

"Why would you wear shoes this tightly?"

Maria rubbed her foot, crossly.

"Girls _always_ squeeze their feet into uncomfortable fashionable shoes to get their man. It's a common fact of life, duh."

"Except that like, that shoe totally isn't fashionable _at_ _all_." Feliks says with disgust.

"Really?" Toris and Maria ask in unison, much to their chagrin.

"Oh, yeah. This is like, a practical shoe for like, I don't know, tracking through mud, or going to your aunt's funeral, and you totally hate her ass because she left you out of the will, or something."

"… Interesting."

"Ach! Get it off me! Get it off me! It's got dead people germs!"

Maria tore the shoe off, throwing it against the wall. Toris sighed. There were about 537 houses to go, then.

And then, there was a strange beeping sound.

"What the hell is that?" Maria ever so eloquently asked, pulling herself into fetal position as she looked around the room. Whatever it was, the beeping was steadily getting louder, as if something was approaching.

"Don't let it eat me!" Maria shrieked, jumping behind the chair.

Everyone listened quietly, waiting patiently for whatever was coming. Monster or not, everyone couldn't help but have a sense of dread filling their stomachs. And then there it was – the sound of footsteps on the back stairs. Toris started to shiver, and was about to bite his nails until Feliks stopped him from ruining the manicure he had just gotten for him.

And there, at the bottom of the stairs, appeared Renate.

Maria jumped out from behind the chair, snickering.

"Hey, it's the unawesome aristo-bitch!" But her laughter died when she saw the girl holding the other shoe, with a small antennae sticking up out of it.

"Ah, good. The tracking device _does_ work!"

She folded down the antennae, and as if to rub it in that they were hers, she slipped both shoes onto her feet.

Oh, if looks could kill. And they might have, if there weren't two witnesses in the room.

That, and Renate could totally outrun the three of them now that she had proper footwear.

* * *

><p>The wedding was beautiful, elegant, and best of all, free, since the Prince used a butt-load of coupons to cover the cost. Renate moved away from her annoying stepfamily and finally realized her dream of being a part of the aristocracy. The royal couple then had a couple of kids, and lived happily ever after, thank you, and goodnight.<p>

* * *

><p>Disclaimer: I do not own that which is called Hetalia. Or Cinderella. Foo'.<p>

Ah… no. You see, there's more to it than that. It's a _royal_ wedding, damn it. Think of the merchandising! The commemorative plates, the imitation wedding rings, the designer wedding dress that will be the talk of the kingdom – everything. You see, it's not the end. It's just the beginning.

That, and I'm not that lazy that I'd end it here. I want to at least give you guys a taste of a royal wedding (or how I see one working in my head, I never really saw the actual one, so I have nothing to go by).

Sorry about this taking so long. Damn photography class is zapping my will to finish the things I've started. And dark rooms hate me. I dropped my roll of film on the floor, and when I stood up I bashed my head on the table. Twice.

On a happier note, I have finally procured pink sparkly fabric to make my Iggy the unicorn. Score!

Oh, and please review. As always, I appreciate anything you guys have to say. ^^


	11. Chapter 11

My apologies. I didn't make it clear that the last chapter wasn't the ending. There's going to be an omake after this one, and it's done. Now enjoy the royal wedding, my darlings.

Recap: Louise (Germany) apparently has big feet, Maria (Prussia) doesn't care that it's the late 18th century, and Toris (Lithuania) was right about the tracking device all along. Oh, dear. XD

High Standards: A Hetalicized Cinderella Story

Chapter Eleven: Perfect

* * *

><p>"Ve… what's wrong, Louise?"<p>

Louise is curled up on a chair in the kitchen, shivering in a little ball while Felicita rubs small circles in her back.

How did the Italian girl get into the house, you may ask? Well, Renate left the house, so everyone was forced to search for their own food for once. Maria had run off to buy something from the market, and Louise had tried to boil water. Stepmother just sighed and went to bed. Two seconds after setting the wood under the stove on fire, Felicita breaks in, screaming that her pasta radar was going off. And then she shoves Louise out of the way to do the cooking.

"I have a bad feeling Maria is about to do something incredibly stupid…."

* * *

><p>It was the day of the royal wedding, which was to take place in the gorgeous Palace Garden this bright, warm sunny day. As mentioned at the closing of the last chapter, the ceremony was paid for by coupons, but this is not a heavily broadcast fact, and for good reason.<p>

After all, this was not some ordinary wedding. This was a _royal_ wedding. There would be lots of media attention, and image was very important. While Renate understood this, she also realized how close she was to becoming _Princess_ Renate. This was an opportunity to begin living like she had the power and influence to have people killed, or institute a ridiculous amount of fees for things like toothpicks and commemorative wedding rings. Why? Because she can.

With the help of her fiancé, Renate turned an hour of standing in a designer dress into the greatest money-making scheme _ever_.

Here's how it works: in order to attend the wedding, you either have to be super-close to the royal couple, or you buy a ticket for a seat. Since the cheap raffle tickets are sold in packages of 500, and Prince Vash only bought one roll, they are in high demand, going for $1300 each.

Don't worry if you can't afford to sit. You can always pay $300 to stand, or be an usher for free (and go through a thorough background check). Journalists and members of the media get a special discount, but since there are camera fees, interview fees, etc, they might as well just pay for the stupid $1300 seat and sneak in a tape recorder.

Let's break away for a second and visit hypothetical land and say you haven't arrived yet. Which is cool, but not when a freak power outage around 3 a.m. resets your alarm clock so it's blinking 12:00. What's more, you forget to set the alarm on your cellphone to act as a backup.

The wedding's set to begin at 2:45 p.m. You are one of the lucky ones who is working at the wedding, so you can get in for free. However, the workers are supposed to show up fifteen minutes early.

You wake up when a polar bear sits on your chest, demanding food. You move to shove him off, but since an object in motion stays in motion, or something like that, you end up falling on the floor.

The good news is that the night before, you were too drunk to care about where your clothes landed, so you dumped them by the side of the bed before collapsing on the mattress. The bad news is that when you fell, a loud crunching noise reached your ears from a cellphone in a pants pocket buried beneath your weight.

Sound familiar? That's because you are one of the few people who remember your name is Matthew Williams.

"Damn it, Kumafuma. Why didn't you wake me up? I'm going to be late!"

"Who?"

Case in point.

"Matthew…" He muttered, putting on his glasses.

After throwing on his guard uniform, making some pancakes for himself and Kumajirou, he checked the bowl on the shelf by the back door for his coach keys (instead of car keys XD), and then remembered something very important.

Last night the members of the Royal Guard were at Prince Vash's bachelor party. Since the groom was such a stingy bastard, everyone was forced to bring their own beer. And what was the entertainment, you may ask?

They shot rounds at the Royal Firing Range.

Matthew shivered at the memory. Whosever idea that was needs to jump in front of a speeding train, or be the one who has to buy vodka when the King runs out, or be locked in the same room as King Ivan when the vodka ran out.

_Sorry, that's just too mean... whoever you are._

Matthew digresses. The point is, a lot of idiots got drunk and started pointing guns at things that may or may not have had a target on them. Thank God no one got hurt, although Alfred took his ride last night, so Matthew had to bum a ride from a complete stranger who may or may not have been a creepy porn star dude. Or he might have just been French, Matthew hasn't decided yet.

So his coach was gone, and now it was running on 2:02, according to his watch with a little maple leaf on the face.

Maple, maple MAPLE!

"Watch the house for me, okay, Kumakichi?"

"Who?"

"… Whatever, I don't have time for this."

After ten agonizing minutes, Matthew managed to hail a taxi, and then another fifteen minutes passed for him to get to the Palace Garden. And since the wedding guests were being nickeled and dimed everywhere, there were long lines extending far away from even the Palace entrance itself.

While Matthew was a very patient person, King Ivan wasn't. And all of the guards were expected to attend as groomsmen for Prince Vash (Alfred was best man, lucky jerk). So waiting in line was definitely not an option, and he was too polite to just barge his way in. Matthew crossed his arms, frowning. What other options were there?

He could pose as a member of the media, but he didn't have a camera, or the $150 camera fee. Hmm…

"Hey you! Yeah, you! The cutie in the uniform!"

Matthew didn't even notice the girl trying to get his attention until a slim pale hand tilted his chin down. And then all thoughts were cancelled out by the demanding gaze of those deep crimson eyes.

"M-maple!"

The albino in the black sequined top, plaid mini-skirt, and shiny black combat boots ignored his girly exclamation, shifting the guitar case on her back instead. _Was she working at the wedding, too?_

"Tell you what, Birdie," Maria said, taking him by the wrist, "You're gonna help me with my awesome plan."

"Huh?" Matthew tried to pull away, but geez, her grip was strong. He would almost bet that she was a lot stronger than Alfred.

"Look, with my awesome charisma and charm, and your knowledge of the layout of this joint, we'll be able to crash that wedding – no trouble at all!"

"B-but-"

"You were planning on going anyway, riiiight?"

The way she held his hand, the confidence of her actions, and the determination in her eyes… they would only lead to trouble. Matthew knew that very well.

Trouble was annoying, like Alfred when he tries to get Kumahito high because he thinks it'd be hilarious, or when Matthew gets beat up as a result of one of his brother's "pranks".

But without trouble, life was stagnant. Trouble is what breaks Matthew's routine of sitting around the house with nothing to do, and no one to talk to.

It gives him a chance to truly _live_.

"Y-yeah,"

Maria smirked.

"Well, c'mon, let's go!"

* * *

><p>So far, to Renate, the wedding was going off without a hitch. The string quartet (made up of members of the military academy who owed favors to the Prince) were softly playing "Canon in D", the 500 seats were packed with adoring subjects, the flower girl had dropped recycled Edelweiss petals from the garden, and Prince Vash stood at the small portable alter, with a facial expression that could only be described as pure boredom. Everything was going according to plan.<p>

The final notes resonated in the air for a brief moment, getting completely swallowed up by the low rumble of the gossiping wedding guests.

…Yeah, that was pretty annoying.

But then the first few notes of "Here Comes the Bride" began, and as Renate unzipped the front of the camping tent she was hiding in (they agreed to save money by having her unzip it herself). Like a ripple turning into a tidal wave, the mass of people stood as Renate mentally prepared herself for her moment of glory.

Immediately, the clicking of cameras and tiny flashes of light threatened to overwhelm her as the bride took her first step down the aisle. Everyone was stunned by her dress, a shimmery ball gown with a small train (so no one would have to be hired to carry it). The lower part of the skirt was decorated with beading in free-form flower shapes that sparkled with a pale blue color in the light. Around her waist was a matching blue sash, which was the same color as the ribbon tied around her bouquet of Edelweiss flowers.

From the twentieth row or so on her left, Renate just happened to spot her fairygod…thing. Whatever. At least he had the decency to show up in a normal suit and tie (sans the wings). One moment, he was crying, and the next, punching Francis in the face. Somehow, they ended up sitting next to each other, and Francis was trying to be "Friendly". Oh, well. Not her problem.

Renate was now only five feet from the alter, a soft smile on her lips. She was only a breath away from her dream, her major goal and life, her entire reason for being – to become a member of the aristocracy. And there was nothing that was going to get in the way of this perfect moment.

A burst of loud feedback ran through the system, and everyone covered their ears as Eduard, the sound technician, tried to figure out what exactly the problem was.

Following a length of instrument cable he didn't remember being there, Eduard looped his was around several chairs, ignoring the people he bumped into or alarmed as it led under the table selling programs ($10 each). Finally, he saw the end of the cord disappear into the dusty green tent that the bride was just standing in moments before her big debut.

Eyebrows knitted with both curiosity and annoyance, he crouched down the grasp the zipper at the front of the tent where the cord trail ended (the zipper was up a few inches to leave a little gap for the cable, so no worries, you sound techs out there).

As soon as he fully unzipped it, Eduard was shoved out of the way by an unseen force, and fell to the ground.

Slowly opening his eyes, he came face to face with a pair of black shiny combat boots. The albino peered down at him, grinning.

"You ready for this? EIN, SWEI, DREI, VIER!"

Wild electric guitar flooded the speakers as Maria walked over to a small vocal mic she had set up nearby, and Eduard rushed over to the board to balance out everything so that their eardrums won't explode. Which is a shame, King Ivan would really enjoy that spectacle.

Renate groaned, covering her eyes in shame. Even though she gave very specific instructions to the Royal Guard to not let any of her stepfamily in, Maria shows up anyway.

"What is _that_?" Prince Vash asks, staring at the strange girl on the sparkly black Fender.

The wedding guests behind them were head-banging. King Ivan was laughing and clapping along, telling his Grand Duke to thank Matvey for bringing some "awesome entertainment".

"…Your future sister-in-law."

"MARUKAITE CHIKYUU, MARUKAITE CHIKYUU, MARUKAITE CHIKYUU…"

* * *

><p>Disclaimer: Hetalia. I don't own it. Or Cinderella. And now it's HAMMER-TIME!<p>

My goodness, this was fun. The only thing I know about weddings comes from many years of working as a sound technician. In other words, waking up in time to mute the paster/minister/whatever before they start humming to the songs loudly. I seriously wish I had an epic wedding crasher like Prussia - I'd have the excuse to mess with the EQ, bwahahaha.

Many thanks to countrymagazine, who wishes to translate this story into Chinese. Go for it, amazing enthusiastic person, go for it. :D


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